


Into My Own

by IvaChism



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Buckle up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Healing, Protective, Sweet, its gonna be cute, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:26:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvaChism/pseuds/IvaChism
Summary: Madara Uchiha, on death's door, is forced to accept the fact that his life now rests in the hands of a little girl with pink hair. MadaSaku.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE YOU READ: Please be aware of the fact that I took Naruto's timeline and mutilated it to my sick pleasure. Confusion shall be imminent for a while until our setting is established.

The moon's rays filtered through the thick canopy of Konoha's remote forest to create dappled shadows below. The silver light danced with the movement of the branches in the cool night breeze.

The night was eerily silent. No grasshoppers or owls or frogs dared make a peep, for there was an intruder amongst them.

Madara couldn't remember how long he'd been walking. The adrenaline had worn off by now and could no longer dull the pain lancing through his chest. If the katana had been only a few inches to the side, it would've pierced his spine. But he'd turned at just the last second and killed his assailant with a well-timed kunai before flash-stepping away. They'd followed him like hounds after a fox. He kept to the shadows and when the hindrance became too much, he pulled the katana inch by excruciating inch from his chest and used it to kill them all.

And now he walked, half-delirious with blood loss, one hand cupping his wound and the other propping him up against each tree he passed.

His body begged for rest but he'd surely die if he stopped, his life extinguished before he'd even get a chance to make a name for himself. Curled up and rotting at the base of a tree…. His lip curled in distaste. Death would come for him, of that he had no doubt. But he refused to die that day. Not like that. Not him.

He wondered absently of the fate of the rest of his team. His father had sent him and three others to gather intelligence on Konoha. They'd been just outside the village when one of his teammates dropped their chakra in a moment of vacant stupidity.

Madara would've killed the man himself, but ANBU beat him to it. He and the reaming two had rushed off in opposite directions. There were too many enemies to take on; the best chance they had was to split the ANBU up.

He caught himself against another tree and took a deep breath, a wet and sucking sound.

He wasn't eager to see his father after the failure of his mission. His punishments were intense, to say the least.

Just when he thought he couldn't take a single step further, the trees thinned to reveal a small home. He didn't even hesitate to lurch forward, feeding off of the last vestiges of strength that hope gave him. Candlelight flickered through the lone window, chasing away the shadows he was swathed in as he climbed the steps of the porch. He collapsed the moment he cleared the last step, falling to his knees with a low sound of pain.

He rested his bloody palm against the door and despaired when he hadn't the energy to even knock, let alone open it. It occurred to him that if there was an enemy ninja inside, he'd be dead the moment they saw the uchiwa fan sewn into his clothes. Painstakingly, he unsheathed a kunai and held it at his side, only to lose his grip on it when the door he was leaning against swung inward. He sprawled forward as the hole in his chest screamed bloody agony.

Through bleary eyes he saw a small silhouette, feminine and diminutive, above him. He braced himself for her attack, having learned long ago to never underestimate the enemy, trying and failing to locate his dropped kunai. He vaguely registered the flash of pink he saw.

Her soft gasp reached his ears as if from the end of a tunnel. Everything was turning black and spinning.

When no attack came, his last remaining grip on consciousness left him, all strength was gone from him though he fought tooth and nail to stay awake.

As he was submerged into the void of sleep, he was forced to acknowledge that his fate now rested solely on the whims of a little girl with pink hair.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke to the feeling of being watched. The moment it registered that someone was sitting over him, he had them pinned to the floor in a steely grip.

The first thing that registered was pink. Thick, long tresses of it haloing a face that held the most vivid pair of green eyes he'd ever seen. Fear creased her delicate, heart-shaped face and her throat rippled beneath his hand as she swallowed harshly.

The white-hot agony that lanced through his chest ceased his inspection of the terrified girl pinned beneath him. A soft squeak echoed by his ear as he fell to his elbows, caging the terrified thing in with his body. His grip on her neck never wavered.

"Who are you?" he rasped.

She had to start her sentence multiple times before she could speak. "H-Haruno Sakura…" she whispered.

He raised his head, his thick mane of hair making a curtain around them. "Who do you pledge your allegiance to, Haruno Sakura?"

By now his chest was bleeding again, steadily dripping to stain the front of her dress.

"I don't," she hurriedly said, "I have no allegiance!" Tears were welling in the corners of her eyes. "Please," she whispered.

He stared at her, tempted to pull her into his sharingan, but decided against it. She was nothing but skin and bones and her chakra levels were so obviously civilian that he'd be blind to mistake her for an enemy. The only threat she posed was making him feel the semblance of guilt he'd surely feel if he killed her. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he slowly sat back on his heels.

She slid out from beneath him and shuffled to the other side of the small room, holding herself and fighting valiantly against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

He glanced down at his bare chest where a bandage, now soaked with blood, was haphazardly wrapped around him. He touched it gently, then looked back up.

"You," he said. She jumped. "You did this?"

She nodded silently.

"Why?"

Her brow furrowed and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to speak, but then she said, "Because you were hurt." It was said matter-of-factly as if anyone else would've done the same in any similar situation.

She must not know of him or his clan then, for surely she had seen the uchiwa symbol upon his now torn shirt. He knew he was somewhere in the farthest reaches of Konoha's forests but even then, surely she'd know of the Uchiha, the biggest enemy to the nearby hidden village.

He shifted uncomfortably before noticing he was sitting in the threshold of her home. The morning sun's rays warmed his back.

She must have noticed the confusion on his face because she hesitantly offered, "You were too heavy to move from where you fell." Even softer, she said, "Sorry."

If anything, he was surprised she had managed to roll him over to wrap the bandage around him at all. She was just a child, small and bird-like.

"How old are you anyway?" he murmured.

A blush stained her cheeks and she dropped her head. "Eight." She looked up at him through her ridiculously long eyelashes.

Amusement flared through him. So she was exchanging her fear for shyness now? "So young. And I gather you live on your own."

She bit her lip.

"Why?" he prompted.

"Um…" she scratched her arm and looked away. "I just… do."

The silence that followed was awkward as he stared at her expectantly, broken only by his exasperated sigh.

"And your parents? Where are they?"

Her eyes misted over and he hurried to say, "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets."

He began to push himself to his feet, grunting softly as his chest screamed in protest.

She hurried over to him, demureness forgotten in the face of his pain. "Oh! You should be careful! Your wound!"

He shuddered out a breath. "It's fine. Just show me where your medical supplies is."

She held onto his arm, as if she could hold him up, and pointed around the room. All about was scattered a variety of supplies, thrown about as if a tornado had swept through. He lightly pushed her away from him and she moved without protest.

"I didn't really know what to do," she murmured as he limped further inside.

"You did enough."

At her silence, he glanced down to see her face beet red. He wondered when someone had last complimented her, considering just how flattered she was by his off-hand comment.

"I'm airing out your futon at the moment," she said hurriedly, covering her cheeks with her hands. "Its been in storage for a while so it smells all musty…"

He ignored her muttering in favor of exploring her humble home. It was small, just the living area and the offshoot of her room, which somehow managed to be even smaller than the former. The entirety of it was well-lit with almost every wall being able to slide open, allowing cheerful sunlight through. The soft breeze that rippled through her home carried the faintest notes of birdsong.

"Can I ask you something?"

He glanced at her. "You can ask but I can't say if I'll answer or not."

"How did you get hurt?"

"Does it matter?"

"I… I suppose not."

"Then there's your answer."

He lowered himself to the floor with a weary sigh as she stood at his shoulder, fretting as he unrolled the messy bandage. She described what she'd done while he'd been passed out. Most of it consisted of panicking.

The hole in his chest was as bad as he'd feared, nearly the size of his fist. That katana had pierced straight through, almost to the hilt, and then that bastard had twisted it before Madara could kill him.

"Where's the healer of your village?" he muttered as he pulled at the inflamed skin.

"There isn't any."

He looked up slowly. "No healers?

"No village or healers."

"Is there anyone near here?"

She sheepishly shook her head. "The only person I ever see is my uncle. Auntie sends him every month to deliver groceries and supplies."

His lips twisted into a grimace as he reassessed his situation. It appeared he'd be relying on the little girl for just a bit longer. The sooner he healed, the sooner he could return to his family- where he'd rally a group of warriors in retaliation of the ANBU attack.

"Well. Then I suppose you're just going to have to help me further," he said.

She sat up straighter with a determined expression. "Yes."

"First, you'll need to gather some things for me…"

\----------------------------------------

He'd expected her to cry. But she did her duty with a determined jut of her chin.

After watching him awkwardly sew up the wound on his chest, diligently tracking the progress of his fingers, she moved behind him and shifted his hair out of her way. He shivered at the touch of her small hands and fought the urge to shove her away from him.

Her work was sloppy, the needle occasionally wandering too far from the wound or too deep. The first time it happened he'd scolded her harshly. A gasp, sniffle, and a shaky needle following his surly reprimand made it so he was much more gentle in his corrections afterward. She was emotional one to be sure and he'd never had to account for gentleness in his everyday dealings. In the Uchiha clan, there was no room for weakness. It was giving him a headache.

She eventually calmed down, enough so that she dared to scold him when he moved too much and jolted her progress.

With a smirk, he stared forward and kept still.

It took a considerable amount of time, but the decisive snip of scissors signaled her work was done.

He reached behind him despite her worrying and traced his fingers over the row of stitching. It was sloppy and would no doubt leave an ugly scar, but luckily, if he lacked in anything, then it was vanity; his chosen profession had no place for such things.

He looked up at her where she was worrying her hands, a deep and worried frown twisting her features as she awaited his verdict.

"You did well, Sakura."

Her face bled red instantly and he couldn't help the soft chuckle that rumbled from his chest. It was pleasing to watch her face transform so drastically and he made a note to compliment her more often, if not just so he could see her melt into a shy puddle.

After a while, her cheeks returned to normal. "So," she began, looking up at him with a caution he didn't think he'd earned, at least not so far. "Can I ask you something?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Well," he sat back on his hands and looked at her expectantly, "go ahead."

"Um… are you a ninja?"

He nodded slowly. Was she just now realizing that?

"That's really cool!"

He was taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm.

"My mom and dad let me go to the academy in Konoha for a little bit when I was younger, back before I had to leave. It was really fun! I got to learn a lot of things. My mom didn't really want me to be a ninja but my dad talked her into letting me go," she rambled, looking at him but not seeing as she relived her memories. "But once the accident happened, auntie made me leave school and live here." She smiled to herself fondly as she gathered up discarded bandages. "I really miss studying. A lot of people didn't like it but I did."

Madara was tempted to ask about the 'accident' she was referring to but remembered the way her eyes had misted the last time he inquired after her parents. From what he could gather, they were long dead and this aunt of hers preferred to have a distant relationship with the girl.

"But, still…" she said, suddenly quiet and demure. "Would you mind terribly… if, well… um." His eyebrow twitched impatiently. "That is, if it wouldn't be a bother…"

"Get on with it," he barked.

She closed her eyes and spoke in one long sentence without pause. "Would you mind terribly if you could teach me some ninja things."

He smirked. "Ninja things?"

She blushed. "Could you?"

He perched his chin on his hand and regarded her cooly. "You think I owe you for saving my life."

Sakura's eyes widened. "No, not at all!"

"You think I would've died without your help?"

"No!"

Madara looked away, mulling over her request.

"I can't," he murmured. "Once I'm better I need to return to my family. I have no time to train you."

"Oh," she whispered.

"I'm going to rest," he said suddenly, pointedly looking at her.

"Oh! Ok. I'll, um, be outside…" she said, ducking her head and leaving. "Wait!"

He looked back at her with exasperation. "What?"

"What's your name?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Madara." He searched her expression, looking for any spark of recognition that would indicate he'd have to do something about her.

Sakura smiled awkwardly. "Well, ok. It's nice to meet you, Madara."

He watched her go bemusedly.

This emotional rollercoaster ride was beginning to make him feel sick.

The next few days were interesting to say the least as he began his tentative friendship with Sakura Haruno. It seemed she was one to recover quickly, acting as if she'd forgotten all about their previous interaction and treating him as kindly as she had before his refusal.

At first, he'd thought her terribly shy, living up to her diminutive name, but soon discovered there was a stubborn little thing beneath it all.

It first emerged when he teased her about her young age and how she puttered around pretending to be an adult.

"I am an adult," she growled, putting her hands on her small hips and glaring up at the Uchiha. Even sitting he was taller than her. "At least, in all the ways that count."

He'd thrown his head back and laughed.

Face flaring red, she yelled, "Well, what about you? How old are you, then, huh?"

Still grinning, he said, "Sixteen."

She lost some of her gusto. "Oh. You really are old then…"

"Oi," he said. "I am not old."

"You could be a grandpa, you're so old," she said, holding back a hiccup of laughter.

He made a half-hearted grab for her but she danced out of his reach. "Too slow, old man!"

"You're lucky I'm hurt," he muttered, sitting back against the opened sliding door. "And I'm not old." He wasn't pouting. He wasn't.

He stared out at the forest. It was so calm here, so peaceful. They truly were in the middle of nowhere. What was his clan doing? Did his father even know he was missing? They could be under attack for all Madara knew, and here he was, useless and weak.

A soft hand against his shoulder made him flinch harshly, unused to touch of any kind.

Sakura jerked back before hunching forward, dipping her head. "I'm sorry for calling you old," she whispered, frowning deeply, mistaking his ponderous silence for anger.

His shock was washed away by fond amusement. She watched his hand at it neared her head, squeezing her eyes shut when it descended upon her. When he merely rested it atop her vibrant hair gently, she peered up at him through her lashes. "It's ok."

Sakura stared at him in awe before erupting into a blush that nearly glowed.

With a suddenness that made her squeal, he tussled her hair back and forth, making it frizz and stand at odd angles while she yelled in protest.

"Just don't do it again," he said, laughing deeply when she pouted at him while trying and failing to tame her hair.

"You're old and mean!" she yelled.


End file.
